


The skies I never heard of

by yutae127



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 06:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10825785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutae127/pseuds/yutae127
Summary: Taeyong lives a life believing the skies Yuta has never heard of.





	1. Chapter 1

White flakes falls delicately from the cloudy skies down to the tall trees, the green leaves now covered in a white layer of snow. The cold, brisk air blows around the city of Seoul. It usually doesn't snow in early in December, and he doubts it's going to last long. The coldness urges him to walk faster on the watery road and he shakes the snow flakes off his hair, shrugging it off his backpack, brushing away the white crisps that drenched on his black uniform coat. 

 

Stopping by a bakery with a golden brown painted roof, sandwiched between two tall houses of blue paints that contrast its color that's oddly satisfying to look at. He peered through the glass window before entering the store, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon welcomes him, the scent alone makes him starved. "Let me guess, chocolate apple pie? Smells good." 

 

The old woman smiled dearly at him, crinkled eyes turning into crescents. "You guessed it right again, Lee Taeyong." 

 

"Ah, you remembered my name! I'll have one, then!" Taeyong beams at her and walks to lean on the glass counter, eyeing the delectable types of bread in the display. The woman emerges from the staff room, holding out a paper bag and hands his order to him forthwith. "And I'll have hot chocolate too, please." 

 

"You like sweets so much." 

 

Taeyong took the cup from her and pays, bowing as he makes his way out. "I'll come back tomorrow." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ghastly cold wind that blows to his face starts becoming unpleasant and he hurried to cross the street, heading over to his direction. He passed through a pavement of tall post lights, counting each of them until he reached to the front of his apartment. "24". Taeyong whispers, lips trembling from the chilling air. Seeing the two elevators were occupied, he climbs up the staircase to the third floor and greets everyone he recognizes that passes by him. 

 

The five story building has a rustic atmosphere, apart from the polished wood floors, framed windows and front doors painted in black, the walls and the ceilings are neatly colored in plain gray. The most attractive quality of the building is the quiet ambience, making it a perfect place to read. Taeyong smiles at the thought of the to-do list he wrote last night that he could begin starting tomorrow for the Holiday break. Contrary to what he expected, the last year of high school isn't bustled in activities, in fact he had a lot of time to study for the college entrace exams he'll be taking for next year. 

 

His room is the fifth one located at the end of the hallway, and passing through the third door, he hears the clattering sounds of what could be moving furnitures. Someone moved in today, he thought. The door of the dimly lit room is slightly opened, but the gurgling noise of someone.....drowning? And curiosity led him to peer inside. A biggest mistake, he figured, and the worse has yet to come. His eyes grew larger seeing an unclothed man lying on the floor. The small light that comes from the window allows him to see the splutters of blood across the floor and the body. Taeyong's heart started hammering right out of his chest. There were movements of what Taeyong supposes another man inside the room that holds a knife, and all he could hear is his pulse beating on his ears. Fear envelopes his skin and he clasp his hand on his mouth to stop the gasp that escaped his lips to make his presence unknown, yet his eyes couldn't leave the man in black standing across the room. Blood drains from his face when he notice the man leaned down, raising his hand up only to fall down and stab the body that Taeyong figures was already dead. 

 

Willing his petrified body to move, Taeyong stepped back from the door. Holding his breath to avoid making any sounds. Dread crept up from the pit of his stomach, and slowly, quietly, Taeyong walks forth and steps into his own room. He stumbles on his step, reaching blindly on the wall for the switch to turn the lights on. Hands never leaving the knob of the door to lock it, but he failed. "Oh my god." Taeyong mutters almost inaudibly. A cold wave encages him and the hair at the back of his neck starts to rise. Breathless, Taeyong waddled away from the door when it opened, his backpack and the paper bag he's holding dropping in the process, shaking and cold tears streamed down his face when the door swung open revealing the man earlier that steps inside. 

 

A fitting black jeans, black shoes and black baggy hoodie that covers his head. Face couldn't be seen from the black mask he's wearing that covers his mouth and nose, and bangs swept down that covers most of his eyes. The appearance wasn't anything Taeyong expected, yet it didn't stop the shivers from running down his spine when he sees the knife covered in blood the man was holding. 

 

"P---please." He murmurs, feeling a lump on his throat. God, don't allow this. He collapses on the hard floor, nails digging into flesh of his palms. Taeyong didn't have time to push himself up from the ground and run away, because the man is already hauling him up. Grabbing Taeyong's one arm and twisting it into his back, and he was pulled to the man's chest. With the man's other hand aiming the point of the knife to his neck. 

 

"You saw my face, didn't you?" The man asked in soft-spoken voice, that Taeyong wouldn't believe it was coming from someone who just murdered. 

 

God, please.

 

"I---I didn't. I swear." Taeyong replies, lips trembling. There's a stinging pain from his neck that Taeyong assumes the knife cutting his skin every time he speaks. "I promise, I'm not---going to tell anyone. I'll leave this place... this country. Just please, don't kill me." 

 

"Why should I believe that?" 

 

The man replies, tightening the grip on Taeyong's back and the knife on his neck cutting deeper. His teeth chattered in fear when he felt blood running down his collar. Taeyong closed his eyes, mind wavering to anywhere but his dead end---- and he sees the image of his mother in the kitchen, his dad is at the table reading a newspaper. He heard the laughter of his friends echoing to his ears---of the lame jokes that wasn't even funny to begin with, and his dog playfully biting the laces of his shoes. Maybe this is what happens when your life flashes before your eyes. It wasn't euphoric, but rather a dystopia of regrets. Taeyong wishes he could be a better son, passing a scholarship to the college he desires and getting a credential. He wishes he was a better friend, someone who can be there for everyone if they need him. Or a better owner for Ruby that could keep an eye on her all time, if only he didn't have to attend school. 

 

Taeyong was pulled out of his trance when he felt the man dragging him to the bathroom--to his dead end, shoving his face against the wall. Funny because earlier today, he just cleaned this place before coming to school. Yet after this, it'll be be strewed in his own blood and body. It's like he cleaned it for this very purpose--- at the very least he didn't have to clean it anymore. He wonders how long would he have to stay here. How long until the policemen, or worse, his parents or friends would find his lifeless body. For whatever comings next, he closes his eyes, trying to waver his mind elsewhere than this slow torture but fails miserably. He wonders if it will be painful to have knife penetrating through his flesh, spouting all the blood out of his life.

 

The knife aimed at his neck retracted for a second, and the bleak cold hand now covers Taeyong's mouth. His stomach churns at the rusty raste of blood, disconsolated and the thought of it belonging from the murdered man on the next room. He could take physical torture, but not a repulsive torment like this. He reluctantly wiggled from the man, making strangled noises and Taeyong awaits the final blow when the devil shall finally impale his death on him. Hearing even the slightest sound of what could be ringtone made him jolt, and suddenly he felt his body freed from the grasp. Ever so quickly, Taeyong ignored the aching of his twisted hand, reaching up to wipe the disgusting sleek of liquid off his mouth. 

 

Not only afraid, but highly repulsed.

 

"Yeah, it's been taken care of." 

 

Hesitantly, he peeks through the mirror watching the man who's back turned on him, a phone in hand to his ears. Taken care of? Taeyong incredulously gasped, but not loud enough that the man didn't hear. He raises his head a bit more, wanting to have a complete look on his face when the man spoke to his phone again. "No, no. It's just..this flat is packed. People will find him sooner if we don't clean up. Yeah, third floor, third room." 

 

Taeyong looks further and found the bloody knife on top of the sink, and he plots his escape. Seeing the man was still occupied with his call, Taeyong wonders if he can actually flee, but will be impossible to sprint fast with his wobbly legs. It's a hopeless case, he realizes when he catches the man glancing at his direction and he quickly looks down on the white tiles, hanging his head low. Before long, he noticed the bump on his pants pocket, his phone. He can send a quick emergency call to the police station. Though Taeyong is probably dead by the time they arrived, but at the very least, he didn't have to rot and his body didn't have to feed the rats, a slight justice to consider. 

 

Carefully, he slips his hand inside his pocket and before he can even pull it out, the man spoke to him. "Hey, do you have alcoh---" Taeyong shivers and pulled back instantly, facing him, he could've sworn his heart jumped out of his chest when the man pointed a gun to his forehead. "Don't push your fucking luck too much." 

 

Taeyong is speechless, seeing the man standing right in front of him. His mask was took off, exposing his face completely. His brown hair falling his face, his eyes were big and slanted on the ends, with nose prominently pointed and tall. His lips is the shape of a heart and there's a conspicuous mole just below his left eye. He looks nothing like Taeyong expected. This man is no older than twenty years old, Taeyong supposes. That which explains the sound of his youth voice. 

 

Taeyong starts to sweat, watching the stained fingers of the man plays with the trigger. He looks through the man's eyes, but it only made him cocked his gun, the barrel pressing harder against his forehead. He couldn't breathe anymore, lungs tightening with every passing second and Taeyong swore he would pass out sooner if it continous any longer. A mewl escaped Taeyong's lips when the man's free hand reach down to his pocket, pulling out his phone. He watches with teary eyes as the man hunched over the screen.

 

"Password." The man demands, fingers tapping rapidly on the screen. 

 

"Z....ero." Taeyong's voice croaked, and the man looked at him with the most calm expression he'd ever seen of him, despite killing someone and cornering another candidate victim. The man probably saw what effects the gun has on Taeyong, so he pulled it down and Taeyong swore he smirked a little. "Zero seven ninety-five."

 

Frowning his brows a little, Taeyong assumes the man is already skimming through the contents of his phone judging by his quirked brows and how quick he's swiping on the screen. Where is privacy?

 

"Oh, a girlfriend?" 

 

Biting his trembling lip, Taeyong doesn't think he needed to answer the question. It was a bad idea to look to his right where a huge mirror is stationed on the wall. He sees himself, paralyzed, pail and collar of his white dress shirt is clad with his own blood along with the blood of a dead man. Taeyong swore only a little of sanity is left, and he's just trying his best not to piss on his pants for it might provoke the killer to dispatch of him sooner. As long as he's alive, there is hope. 

 

"Lee Taeyong, huh." The man spoke again, keeping Taeyong's phone on his back pocket. His eyes roam all over the student, observing him from head to toe. "Can you wash your neck and change?"

 

Vehemently, Taeyong nods, anything that would seem to extend his life and he'll do it. It's obvious why he would request for Taeyong to change. So he wouldn't make the mistake of the mixed blood of the man and Taeyong's own on his shirt, so when he's dead, nothing will come out of the autopsy that both crimes are connected. He waits for the man to finish washing his hands, still frozen at his place. It's only when the man walks out the door was Taeyong able to breathe, desperate for air.

 

"Be quick."

 

He heard it, and so he does. Taeyong shudders when he took off his coat, folding it with trembling hands. The tears threatening to fall from his eyes doesn't allow him to see clearly, and Taeyong washes his face. Taking off his dress shirt to wipe his blood stained chest. There was no pain anymore, and it's fear overtaking all of Taeyong's body now when he hears footsteps nearing the room. "Gather up that mess and put them in your bag." The man instructs and Taeyong bites the question of what he meant by that, assuming he's talking about the uniform. 

 

Just as Taeyong is about to come out, clutching the clothes on his chest, the man threw a black fabric at him, shoving his backpack on his chest. A jacket that he hanged on his coat rack yesterday. 

 

"Wear it." 

 

 

 

 

 

Taeyong doesn't know where they're going, but the man is following behind him, literally. One hand sandwiched between his back and the backpack, and Taeyong is certain it was the gun pointed on his spine. The man covers his face with the mask again, and his hair with the hoodie when he nudges Taeyong to step outside. 

 

There's a slight hope when they got out of the apartment's foyer and Taeyong supposes he's going to die anyway, so why not expose the killer for the needed justice. Seeing the amount of people on the street that could hear his call, and just as Taeyong exhales to prepare for the shout of mercy of his life, the man leaned in to his ears and whispers, "By the way, I already got your family's address and send it to my friends. Don't think about doing anything stupid." 

 

It's when Taeyong rendered his life to his demon, and he didn't say anything too when they ride a car to God knows where. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The gun scaring shuts off, and Taeyong finds himself being dragged on a fancy building that he know a normal person like him wouldn't be able to afford, the guy that's holding him presumably isn't normal . The entrance hall was jammed by the crews clad in red uniforms. The man grabbed him on the wrist, dragging him all over and Taeyong couldn't find his footing, surprised, no, terrified at the sudden friendly expression the man is sending to the staffs that greets him. 

 

What the fuck do you even know he just killed a man and he's going to kill me too, Taeyong cusses under his breath. Taeyong muffled his mouth with his hands before he whimpered when the man shoved him inside the elevator, careful to not make any noise. Floor fifteenth. He watches the man clicks to the buttons. All Taeyong wishes is that his body still be found sooner in case he dies on an unfamiliar place.

 

He sets his foot inside a huge sized condominium. The first thing he noticed were the high quality furnishings situated everywhere in the unit. Next were the majestic chalendier hanging above the white painted ceilings. The place was accomodated with one to many doors and Taeyong wonders how many people were there inside each of them, dead or alive. There was a huge television facing a gray plaid settee where the man plumped down groaning and turning the remote control. 

 

"Why are you doing this?" Taeyong dares to ask. If he's going to die anyway, at the very least he didn't die clueless. There must be a reason why he's pulled here, too. 

 

"Well the pay is quite charming, so." The man yawned, stretching his arms out in the process. From there, he spots the forgotten faint stain of blood at the ends of his sleeves. Hurriedly taking it off and tossing it the middle of the living room. "Death is beautiful."

 

Ignoring the last part, he supposes it's just a man's way to speak in order to look tough. Taeyong watches from the side as the man's face turned in horror, noticing the white shirt he's wearing underneath is stained too. "What the. Hey, stay here. Don't make any move." He gestures Taeyong to sit on the settee, and he complied with quivering legs. Because no matter how much self encouragement he shoves in his throat---it'll be okay and he knows it won't, Taeyong will still end up a feeble corpse anyway. 

 

The man emerges from one room, and he sits on the other side of the couch distant from Taeyong, switching to another channel. Despite the entrancing legs of Girl's Day performing on the huge screen, Taeyong couldn't take his eyes off of the man, completely terrorized. 

 

"What...do you need money for?" Taeyong asked again. Expecting he'd gain a reasonable and dramatic rationale that he sees on movies: like about a boy from a poor family and his sickly mother needed financial support for medical assistance, somewhere along those lines that evokes him to becoming a killer. There was no answer, and Taeyong ask again. "What's your name?" 

 

"Yuta." 

 

"So, you're not Korean then..." Taeyong says, stammering and it made Yuta look at him. To distract himself from the predictable, he asks again, "How old are you?" 

 

"Twenty two. Are you a high school somewhere?" 

 

Taeyong nodded. In deep wonder for how long he can keep a natural conversation with a killer and if it could keep him alive as well. But Yuta's demeanor invokes discomfort, making it impossible for him to engage them in a casual talk. Taeyong finds himself biting at his lower lip, and he clasp his trembling hands together.

 

"Are you like fifteen or what." There's a tinge of laughter by the way Yuta snorts when he noticed Taeyong clasped hands, shaking his head. A common behavior he encountered many times, all the same, as though Taeyong's trepidation of him is something to laugh off.

 

"I'm 19." Taeyong answers, but immediately regrets it when Yuta raised a brow at him, a suspicious frown on his face. "17." He admits, looking away. 

 

It's unsettling by way Yuta keeps on switching through the channels, like none of the T.V shows satisfy him. Aggressively running his hand through his hair, as if he's on the brink of throwing the remote controller any time soon that will most likely land on Taeyong's face. 

 

"Are...you gonna kill me here?" Taeyong questions, wanting to settle it sooner in case he dies of heart attack without Yuta even lifting a finger.

 

"Eager to die, are we?" Yuta was quick to answer, finally deciding to turn off the big screen. He ogles at Taeyong's neck and leans in closer, making Taeyong gasp in terror. "That's a deep cut, isn't it?"

 

Upon realizing what he's pertaining to, Taeyong reaches to touch the cut on his neck and winces at the burn even just from the small pressure. Wearily, he rubs off the dried patch of blood on his fingers, wishing it would go away. A constant panic sits on Taeyong's chest, forbidding him to think clearly being stuck in such a devastating situation. Despite the hopeless status, Taeyong still wishes that someone will come to his rescue and free him from this endless agony. 

 

God, can you hear?

 

Cold tears gather up on the corner of his eyes that he attempts to hold back, yet fails so. As much as Taeyong doesn't want to cry, because it will only serve as another passage for Yuta down to his weaknesses, because Yuta's presence alone is a formidable prospect he'd ever encountered. Taeyong blames his curiosity, the human nature's desire to discover, that puts him into this incurable state. He could've just get through his inquisitiveness and passed by the slightly opened door, ignore the clattering and the gurgling noise, and go straight to his room to shower and eat, and he wouldn't have to witness hell and be held hostage by a killer. Taeyong is at fault, but he couldn't completely blame himself, when no amount of reasoning could redeem Yuta for being responsible to it all. 

 

Taeyong did nothing when his tears fell down, not holding back the sobs that escape his lips. Knowing fully well that it wouldn't make him any more pathetic in Yuta's eyes, and none of this could stop the tremor Yuta could regard him any moment. Taeyong hears something he didn't understand, and the next thing he sees was darkness. 

 

 

 

 

The cold envelopes his skin, causing his whole body to hurt at a single movement. He feels the hard surface below him and Taeyong tries to open his eyes, yet sees nothing from the covering that's tied up on his head. Jolting his head repeatedly, Taeyong uses the surface for friction to remove the covering on his eyes that disentangled in an instant, arms crippled from intolerable pain, as though they were tied but with a rope missing. He squints at the luminance of his surroundings, white walls and bright light from the ceiling glistered to his sight. 

 

He willed his quavering legs to get up, arms aching when he used them for balance. His eyes wander around the white room, and guesses he's just somewhere in one for the rooms inside Yuta's unit. All he can remember was when Yuta leaned in to him, and cover his mouth with something suffocating the he passed out. Taeyong doesn't know how long he'd been inside the spacious room, and he didn't have to check the door to know that it's locked. He staggers to the door, leaning in to his ears. For a long while, he listens, but not a single noise could be heard outside. Though it could just be from the largeness of the place, and it's not safe to assume that he's alone. 

 

Alert not to make any noise, Taeyong dashes to the window, heart skipping a bit when the roller creates a small sound. Taeyong could only hope, when he sees the outside through the window glass, tall buildings and cars moving from below. It would be impossible to shout for help from the distance. Taeyong shakes in jitters when he slid the window open, his lungs taking in the fresh air from the outside. It was bright outside, and probably in the middle of the afternoon. He wouldn't be able to make it alive jumping from a fifteenth floor, so he peeks his head out to study the building, seeking for anything he could use for leverage. Below was a balcony, and if Taeyong is lucky, he could step on the convexed stone designed on the wall to crawl down. It would be too risky, but he'd rather die from a fall than in the hands of a demon. That, if he wasn't so afraid to die.

 

Just then, he heard a loud bang. Taeyong swore he saw the bullet passing so close to his face that it stings. He didn't have enough time to process it when strong hands pushed him back against the wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs and Taeyong's sight darkens when he sees a blood dripping down to his chest and to Yuta's hands on his shirt. Taeyong pants, legs trembling when he looks up to see the excruciating stare Yuta has on him. 

 

Yuta shoves him again, kneeding him on the stomach that had Taeyong writhing in pain and he clutches at his stomach. But Yuta didn't let him, grabbing him on the shirt once more to pull him up. Though in pain, Taeyong didn't missed the wince on Yuta's face when he dragged Taeyong out of the room. And Taeyong knows it was the end, squirming from his touch and begs for him to be released. "Please! Don't kill me! Please!" Taeyong pleads, stumbling before him but Yuta's strong hands kept him up. 

 

It hurts all over, and Taeyong chokes when Yuta snagged him on the collar, tightening his hold as he watches Taeyong with a harrowing stare. There wasn't a tinge of conscience in his eyes as he continues to torture Taeyong, not a slight pity that could permit him to heaven, as though it was a staring game with a heartless creature that everyone fears. It's obvious that no amount of pleading would be enough to stop the hell Yuta will unleash on him.

 

Yuta tossed him on the side, making his back hit a hard wall and he falls on a desk. A flower vase collides to the ground and Taeyong breaks with it. A numbing pain shoots to his whole body, and Taeyong flinched in horror when he sees the pool of blood on his hands. 

 

It didn't take long when Yuta grabs the back of his hair, making him stand up and drags him again to wherever Taeyong assumed is death. Yuta is going to hell for all this, and Taeyong could only serve as one of his pieces that should lead him there. Taeyong was shoved to another room and stumbled to his back, with Yuta locking the door to his face. He's alone again. It's a push and pull with the devil, but Taeyong knows he's only leading to one fate, to die. 

 

Anger stirs to his stomach, a sinful feeling---a mistake, but it was bound to be felt and Taeyong swore he wouldn't give in while he's alive. His family is waiting for him at home, for Christmas eve's dinner where they would exchange gifts and eat together. If he give up now, then he wouldn't be able to embrace them, and that's not what Taeyong wanted. 

 

The smell of fragrance makes him look around, and Taeyong didn't properly managed to get up and sprints to the shower hurriedly. Not minding the pain that hits his skin as he washes the blood off his body. When it became too cold, Taeyong dives to the hot tub. Shuddering at the warmth that sends shivers straight to his bones. He looks down to see his reflection on the water, a long stripe of blood on his cheek that could only be from the blow of the gunshot. His hands raised up to trace it, and wonders if Yuta had intend to kill him, or if he just got lucky. 

 

He looks at the cuts on his palms, blood still flowing from the red and small slits. Perhaps the wounds would hurt on other occassion, but this time, all Taeyong could think of is to live. If he managed to survive and escape, that way, even if revenge is a forbidden wish, he can get Yuta to pay for everything.

 

Warm clothing was prepared and folded neatly on the counter right beside the sink. It was a white shirt, underwear and black pants Taeyong assumes belong to Yuta cos they're pretty much the same size. He dries his hair with a towel, carefully damping the wound on his face with a cotton and alcohol he finds on the drawers. Taeyong tries to look at the brighter prospect, if Yuta had really intend to kill him even if he missed earlier, he could've shoot Taeyong again, and he would be dead by now. But something tells Taeyong that Yuta is in it to play with Taeyong's emotions more. And until Yuta finds entertainment in toying with him, that only serves Taeyong more chances to remain alive and escape. 

 

What Taeyong didn't expect to see when he got out of the bathroom, is Yuta lying on the couch and panting hard. His stomach was exposed, and a white shirt is crumpled on the upper part of his body, pooled in blood. It was like a reflex, that Taeyong dashes to him, taking his own shirt off to remove Yuta's and to cover the large wound right below his shoulder. It wasn't that big, but bleeding enough that probably worn Yuta out, almost lifelessly. "Wh--what happened to you?" Taeyong asked with shaking hands, afraid that any pressure would only cause the wound to bleed even more. 

 

Yuta didn't blurt out any incoherrent words like he expected, or didn't plead for his dear life to be rescued. Instead, there was a smirk on his face when he looks at Taeyong saying, "You could've took advantage of that and escape. Too bad I got you again."

 

A demon, indeed. Taeyong swallowed the lump on his throat when he felt the barrel of gun pressed against his temple. Yuta was right, he could've escaped but instead he came running for his help. Maybe because Taeyong didn't feel any trace of hesitance to save him. Because unlike Yuta, Taeyong has a heart. "If I did, you would've shot me." And it doesn't take a genius to know that.

 

Yuta puts the gun down to his side, raising one hand to Taeyong's face that had the other trembling. "How come did I miss? The bullet really messed up that pretty face of yours, doesn't it?" 

 

Taeyong shudders when Yuta traces the wound on his face with his fingers. So tender as if he wasn't Yuta at all. "Let's take you to the hospital." Taeyong suggested, afraid his heart couldn't take witnessing another death. His fury of revenge could be save for later. 

 

"Kid, it's just a cut. Nothing that could kill me. I'm going to die a horrible death." Yuta mumbles out, lips turning white from the lost of blood. Taeyong couldn't agree more and watched him stood up leisurely, palm pressed against his bleeding shoulder.

 

If Yuta is strong, he doesn't look like it. His physique wasn't of a muscular built. If anything, his thin frame resembles Taeyong's bony one, except for the toned arms that's hidden on Yuta's sleeves. To which explains how easy it is for him to manhandle Taeyong when they're pretty much the same size. When Yuta turns around, there was a long scar from his nape along his spine that looks like a stitched mark, similar to the two small ones on both sides of his back parallel to it. 

 

For awhile, Taeyong was dumbfounded at the sight until Yuta turns towards him, as if he felt the intense staring of Taeyong that bores into his skin. Panicked as to how Yuta would response to his prying, Taeyong stepped back in fear, looking anywhere in the room but Yuta's direction. 

 

"You're hungry, aren't you?" 

 

Only then Taeyong starts to feel the churning on his stomach. He couldn't even last a period in class without chewing a gum or drinking water, and not eating for more than twenty four hours is setting a new record. Taeyong only realized how naked he was in front of Yuta, having no shirt on, when the latter gazes at him for tedious moment , waiting for an answer. Nodding, Taeyong crosses his arms to his chest, as if it could cover anything. 

 

To his action, Yuta hisses. Grabbing Taeyong in the arm who flinched in surprise, "Chill. Not gonna hurt you." He says, loosening his hand a bit, towing Taeyong with him. "Unless you give me a reason to." 

 

Considering the amount of hell he'd put him through, Taeyong doesn't trust Yuta on this. However it's not like he has another option than to oblige, reluctantly following Yuta to his steps as he lead him to another room. Taeyong closed his eyes for what was coming, earning a chuckle from Yuta that made Taeyong confused. 

 

"It's the kitchen." Yuta states, releasing Taeyong's hand. He walks through the huge fridge in the middle of the room to get a pack of ice, placing it on his shoulder. 

 

Watching him, Taeyong was the one who winces to how painful must it be. But Yuta looks so nonchalant, and Taeyong understood that he might be experienced with this kind of pain. Just what is Yuta up to? He catches the sandwich paper bag Yuta tossed at him, his wounded hands hurting at the coldness. 

 

"The microwave's on your left." Yuta points to the blue tiled counter, a black microwave oven is lined along with the coffee maker. "Make coffee for yourself if you want. I'll be in my room." 

 

Taeyong is hungry, and before Yuta could change his mind on feeding him, he dashes to the oven. Opening the bag of sandwich and placing it inside to a low heat. It doesn't matter what the flavor is, as long as he eats, and as long as it doesn't have much mayonnaise. The hair on his nape rises when he felt Yuta leaned in, whispering a warning Taeyong knows he should obey, "Don't do anything stupid. You heard me." 

 

"Y---yes." Taeyong steps away and nodded, facing him. His eyes travels along Yuta's bloody arm that's resting on the counter, the position makes it look like he's cornering Taeyong, which is most probably it. The amount of Yuta's blood on his body makes Taeyong wonder how come Yuta isn't dead yet. "You...you're bleeding too much. You shouldn't be moving around." 

 

"Clean up everything when you're finished." 

 

 

 

 

When Taeyong finishes in the kitchen, skin freezing from being shirtless for a long time, he ventured to the comfort room to find a towel, wrapping it on his small body. Looking at his appearance through the mirror terrifies him, certain that the wound on his face and the cut on his neck is going to leave a mark. And it's sickening to anticipate how much more of these is he going to take before everything is over. 

 

The spacious place suffocates Taeyong. As though every movement of him is being watched and he knows Yuta is just in one of the lines of these close doors. He may be injured, but Taeyong still fears his capability to subjugate him. Even when Yuta's voice gives out an amiable air, his eyes are a climate of an impending threat. There was more to life than to be trapped in his demoralizing palms, hence, there must a reason why Taeyong is here. 

 

Exhaustion and pain made Taeyong oblivious to his surroundings, and he woke up with an aching neck. When Taeyong opens his eyes to see Yuta crouching in front of him, staring, he jolts backwards, his back hitting the hard wall in the process. "I-- I'm.." 

 

"What are you doing sleeping outside my room?" Yuta questions, standing up. 

 

Taeyong watches him with wide eyes, nails pressing on the hard floor. He looks around to discover he fell asleep with his back against the wall nearby one of the door, which now opened and could possibly be Yuta's room. "I'm sorry I didn't---" 

 

"And don't go around the house shirtless, unless you're going to give it for my sustenance." Yuta groans out, laughing a little when he noticed the way Taeyong shudders from his words. There's a playful smirk on his face when he reached for his belt, adjusting the buckles. 

 

It's almost painful to swallow the lump in his throat to picture the idea, and Taeyong swore Yuta is the worst when he makes a move to stride away but Yuta didn't let him,catching his wrist and shoving him to the wall. Taeyong closes his eyes, heart racing out of his chest when Yuta leans in. The hair on the nape of his neck rises when Yuta moves closer, the sound of his breathing against Taeyong's ears. "Say, can I?" 

 

"Sto--p it." He murmurs, and he dares to shove Yuta away but his confidence dies immediately when his palm touches Yuta's bare chest, the image of him killing a man and beating Taeyong up crippled his body. He could take pain and torture, but not the sort of degradation Yuta is bullshitting right now.

 

Enjoying the terrified helpless creature in front of him, Yuta seizes Taeyong's hand before he could withdraw it back. He straightens the younger's shaking palm, sliding Taeyong's hand to his chest down to his toned abdomen He let's out a lewd sound that had Taeyong gaping at him in horror. "Eager to touch, I see. I take that as a yes." 

 

Detered, Taeyong dares to squirm his wrist out of Yuta's tight hold. The tears that threatens to fall makes his vision blurry, and Yuta's face became faint. Taeyong wishes he could disappear like this. The laughter that sooner erupts baffles him, and he sees Yuta guffawing, freeing his wrist. He quivers at the harassment, because that wasn't one of Yuta's trifling that he could stomach. 

 

"Dress up. You're coming with me." Yuta sighs, receding to his room. 

 

It maddens Taeyong, and he wishes Yuta could die from his hate without having to lay a finger on him. "Where are we going?" He irritatingly whispers. 

 

"A resto. I hate eating alone." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the outside, Yuta acts like nothing out of the ordinary, greeting everyone and flirting with every girls he meet on the street. He blends in perfectly with the society that his conduct is almost too convincing, if Taeyong hadn't known that he has a gun under the bomber jacket he's wearing. Although he walks behind, he could feel the vigor of the glances Yuta throws to his direction, keeping an eye to his target. One wrong move, he could kill Taeyong right there and then. And if he takes drastic measures without a plan to outsmart Yuta, it'll be the end of him. 

 

There's confidence by the way Yuta had set Taeyong free, in a way he's not grasping the younger anywhere, because Yuta made a clear intention to not let Taeyong get away. The young boy gives off a vibe of being sacrificial, a family loving, and would rather hurt than hurt others. So he'd stick to Yuta's words to not do anything stupid, if he didn't want his family hurt.

 

Among the places Taeyong didn't expect they'd be going to is a hospital. Amidst the line of people waiting outside, Yuta only had to signal the nurse at the corner and she let them inside the clinic an instant. The doctor was a tall young man, his hair a very light color of blonde. The nonchalance steady look on his face changes for a brief moment when he sends a questioning look on Taeyong's direction, but Yuta distracted the doctor quickly with a wail. 

 

"What happened to you?" The doctor asked Yuta. 

 

In silence, Taeyong watches as Yuta pulls the gun from his behind, taking his jacket off along with his shirt. Perplexed, he searches the look on the doctor's face that will show tremor once he sees the gun, but there was none. From there, Taeyong got the message that they know each other. A doctor and a killer, the world is such a scary place to live in. 

 

"It's a small cut, Hansol. You didn't have to call me here for emergency." Yuta groans, refusing to lie down on the hospital bed like the doctor instructed him. 

 

"You could die from lost of blood," the doctor tells him, and puts a bandage on his wound that had Yuta whimpering in pain. "And why do you have a pretty kid with you?"

 

On the usual, he gets flustered even on tiny bits of compliment. But not in this dubious situation. He wonders if Hansol, the doctor, knows completely of Yuta's errands. It seems he does, but doctors are supposed to save lives, why is he letting someone like Yuta, who takes lives, walk around freely? He fiddled with his fingers, looking down on his lap and wonders if Hansol is just the same as Yuta. Or same like Taeyong, trapped within Yuta's palm. 

 

The doctor asked the question Taeyong wanted to know all these time. When he looks up at them, just in time when Yuta directed his gaze at him for a brief a moment. As through reading his mind, Yuta pulled Hansol to lean in and whispers something, an answer Taeyong would want to hear but Yuta will certainly repel for him to know. The demon, the cruelest. 

 

"I see. Nothing you'll regret in the future, I suppose?" Hansol says out loud, leveling a syringe to inject on Yuta's arm. 

 

What could probably be the answer to the doctor's question that Yuta denied Taeyong of. The reason why he kept Taeyong, an witness to his murder, alive. It was a gamble for Yuta to keep him. Or perhaps, Yuta is confident of his power that he could keep an antic, an impotent trinket, to pass his time with. 

 

When Yuta's phone rang, he excuses himself to the clinics restroom, shooting Taeyong a glance. It was his chance, so he runs to the doctor across from the room, keeping his voice quiet as ever. "Why--why is he keeping me? What should I do?" 

 

The profound, look of pity Hansol sends him was enough for Taeyong to comprehend his answer. The docfor placed a hand on his shoulder, for the stead of what he couldn't tell Taeyong. Now it's clear that Hansol isn't anyone like Yuta, and instead, he's one of his chess pieces he can move whenever he wants to. He wasn't heartless like Yuta, and he looks sorry at most. No more words were exchanged when the doctor steps back to rummage through his drawer, pulling out a bandage that he puts carefully on the wound on Taeyong's face. Quickly, Taeyong backs away from him when Yuta emerges from the restroom. 

 

"You didn't tell him crap, didn't you? Hansol?" There's a glower in Yuta's face that he tries to hide in an instant, wrapping an arm around Taeyong's shoulder, possesive. 

 

Right away, Taeyong regrets his action, a desperate decision to yearn for sympathy. But there's calmness in the doctor's eyes, to let Taeyong know that he isn't afraid of Yuta when he says, "I didn't bother. I believe you've told him enough crap already." 

 

Yuta snorts a laugh, pulling Taeyong closer. "Then, we'll go. Don't forget to send me an invitation, okay?" 

 

For the last time, Taeyong takes a good look of the doctor's face and he saw the guilt of not being able to do anything. He may be out of Yuta's sight, but conceivably, still on his radar. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After leaving the hospital and riding a taxi, Yuta takes him to an enormous restaurant. There aren't much customers and Taeyong settled on the table Yuta leads him to, before he takes their order. From his seat, he watches Yuta talks to the man behind the counter. It was impossible to hear what they talk about from the distance, but Yuta was laughing along with him. Taeyong doubts Yuta has full control of the whole place, unlike from the hospital, judging from the customers with children that come and go. 

 

 

Sitting up straight when he sees Yuta walking towards their table, he asks. "You hate eating alone?" If he could get Yuta to talk by starting a chaff conversation, then he could ask serious matters later. It was his advantage to be on a place where Yuta couldn't beat him up freely in front of customers. 

 

"I lived my whole life alone, how could I hate eating alone? Who am I kidding?" Yuta sputters with a laugh, eyes fixed on Taeyong's fiddling hands on the table. Of course, it's just another one of his blarney, and Taeyong is a fool for even believing.

 

"Last year, we moved. But I have to stay here alone in Seoul for my studies." Taeyong starts, reluctant whether or not he should continue with his tale telling that Yuta is presumably had no interest in. But just maybe, if he insist, Yuta might took pity of him, and scruple whatever plan he has for Taeyong. "I hate it. Sleeping alone. Eating alone. I hate that I had to be alone." 

 

Unaware, Taeyong hadn't realize he'd say it too fervently until he sees Yuta is looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. He blinks back his tears, hurt that Yuta might just laugh off at his anguish. To his surprise, Yuta hummed in a soft tone, making Taeyong look up at him. "When I was a kid, I've always had my sister with me. I was your age when I lost my parents, along with her." 

 

He didn't expect Yuta would unfold anything about himself. Something so sensitive, and miserable, that could be the exact reason that triggers him to be the person that he is now. Taeyong looks at Yuta in a new light, mouthing an "I'm sorry."

 

"It's fine. It's not like they're any different from the people that die everyday. It doesn't matter." There was no emotion when Yuta says this, and he fell on silence after. 

 

Certain, Taeyong knows that Yuta is lying. But he didn't oppose him. His disclosure had an effect on Taeyong that he doesn't understand. Yuta isn't a fiend from hell, and just like everyone else with a bad past, he needed help. Though, it's sickening that his resort to his agony is to kill people. Yuta could've use the little that's left of his brain, to think, and to stop himself from doing anything that's morally wrong.

 

The weight of the conversation restrained them to continue the talk. And in the next minute, a waiter approached their table to serve their food. It was too much for two people and Taeyong wonders if they're expecting for anyone to arrive.

 

"Jaehyun-ah." Yuta called, reaching to the waiters back pocket. "You've worked hard today!" 

 

"Right, enjoy your meal. Sir!" The waiter smiled, bowing at the two of them and takes his leave.

 

His habitual practice before and after he eats, and Taeyong did a sign of a cross when Yuta commented."You're praying, don't make me laugh."

 

"I wanna thank him, that I'm not dead yet." He retorts, serious. Even when Yuta already warned him not to speak of the subject. Apparently, he got accustomed to saying it freely, so Yuta could fathom his immense fear of his current position in his hands. Maybe if he hears much of Taeyong's will to live, he'll get spared. All he want is for Yuta to let him go. Practically, yes, he's begging for mercy.

 

"Shouldn't you thank me?" Yuta narrows his eyes at him.

 

It's clear Yuta wasn't talking about the fopd."Do the people here know what you do?" Taeyong ask. Aware that his inquisitiveness got out of hand another time. If Yuta's face would change after his question, then he'll need to prepare himself once they're back to Yuta's unit, that is, if he could still make it back there. He got accustomed to the thought of dying?

 

"Yeah, at the back of this resto is a bar. They have hot ass hookers, wanna try?" There's a glint of playfulness on Yuta's eyes when he says this. 

 

"T---that's not what I mean! You pervert" Taeyong scowled at him, flustered. He looks down and away from him.

 

Laughing, Yuta sips on the straw of his drink, aloud. "Alright, Mr. Prude." 

 

"Then what about...the doctor? He knows, right?" At this question, Yuta crosses his arms. 

 

"Hansol? He hates it."

 

Taeyong had the urge to smack Yuta in the head and yell who the heck else other than Yuta's own crazy head loves killing. But in the calmest voice, he says, "I hate it." His opinion may not matter much. But he wants Yuta to know. 

 

"I, too, hated it. But I learned to like it."

 

Swallowing the lump on his throat, he asks Yuta, "Why?" 

 

"It's satisfying."

 

There's something about the way Yuta speaks, authoritative and confident, that he uses as his defense mechanism. His outward manner makes him tough and uncompromising, but Taeyong can tell that Yuta is just another broken soul that needs to be saved. 

 

They ate in silence, and Taeyong finishes almost all of his food. When he thought he'd lost his appetite after witnessing a murder, overthinking made him hungry. Before they exit the building, Yuta covers his face with a mask, typing something on his phone that Taeyong guesses another business related. 

 

"Alright, time for work." Yuta says, yawning once they're outside. 

 

"What...Do you mean time for work?" Taeyong asks, nervous. He knew--- could only mean one thing.

 

"It's difficult moving around here. There are at least nineteen CCTV cameras in this ward. But I had it taken care of." Yuta brags, winking at him. 

 

"What are you going to do?" He knows.

 

Yuta leans in, one hand resting on Taeyong's shoulder and the other pointing at a boutique across the street. "See that man with his rabbit over there," 

 

Squinting, he sees a man through the glass mirror. He's dress up in brown suit, talking to a little girl holding a stuff toy. What's going to happen to this man is most likely the exact thing that happened to what he witnessed before. 

 

"Looks ideal. For now." 

 

"What are you saying? You're scaring me." Taeyong glowers at him, stepping back.

 

"Exactly what you're thinking." Yuta whispers. 

 

"Oh my god, Yuta." Taeyong quivers when Yuta place a hand on to his nape to tickle him. 

 

"Oh your god, Taeyong." Yuta mocks, cackling. When his phone buzzes, he dragged Taeyong to the alley before answering. "Yeah, betting all my good looks, that old boogey knows my face. I'm sending someone in." 

 

Taeyong shivers, when Yuta side eyes him. He can't be serious about using Taeyong for his crimes. "Please, let me go home. I don't wanna see any of this please." He pleads, but Yuta clasp his mouth. 

 

"I'm going to blow his head, or yours?" Yuta whispers against his ears, the proximity sends shivers down Taeyong's spine. "I'm only on a lookout today. Boring as fuck. This is why I hate being injured. All you have to do is go inside that store and check how many people are in there, then come back here." 

 

Taeyong fell silent, mind going black from the weight of Yuta's demand. There's no way he can be responsible for anyone's death. But Taeyong is aware that he can't oppose him, if he still want to live, and if he doesn't want anything to happen to his family. An irredeemable state where there's only one choice but to oblige. Yuta sticks something on his back pocket, tapping him on behind to urge him to move. 

 

Lightheadedly, he crosses the street, almost bumping in to a car and with that, he could hear Yuta glowering at him from a distance. Taeyong freezes when he enters the store, not because of the airconditioning, but because the little girl from earlier greeted him with a smile. He wanders inside the boutique and found a fridge with energy drinks displayed, taking a bottle of Monster as tears start to pour down his eyes. When he moves to the counter, the man greets him with the same warm expression. 

 

"Something the matter?" The man ask and takes his payment. 

 

"Its...nothing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Taeyong sobs, apologizing while he can, looking away from the little girl. He takes his change, and leaves the store as fast as he can. 

 

Yuta is still there, standing and waiting for him. When he sees Taeyong approaching and staggering towards him, he pulled him to the wall. 

 

"It's them. The little lady, and the old man." Taeyong answers before Yuta could even ask him. He doesn't know what lie could make Yuta and his men to recede----if there are more than two people inside the botique, will they withdraw? But as selfish as it might sound, he'll be honest, what's safe for him and his family.

 

Humming in response, Yuta typed something on his phone, hauling Taeyong away from the place with him. It only took one glance for Taeyong to compose himself and stand straight, their previous position must've been a tiny bit suspicious since some people start to look at them. 

 

"Yuta, don't tell me...even the child.." Taeyong asked once they were away from the public, but couldn't put it to words. 

 

"It's her fate to die early. Not that it's important." Yuta declares. 

 

"But, who are you to decide someone's fate?" He unconsciously mutters. Stomach churning from the thought of people dying under his knowledge. 

 

"You gonna lecture me about your God again?" Yuta halts on his step, turning around to look at Taeyong. "You wouldn't like it when I'm pissed off. Would you?" 

 

There's a look on Yuta's face that Taeyong decides its the time to shut his mouth. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Taeyong, do you hate me?" 

 

Startled at the interruption of his thoughts, and the question alone, Taeyong turns to Yuta who's looking at him with expectant eyes. He can't be anticipating an answer to that, because looking at the situation, the answer is plain obvious. Even if hate is a strong word. 

 

"It was my sixteenth birthday, when a group of men hidden under black cape, broke in to our house. My mother was shoot in the head. Three times. My father, they hanged him to death, and burned my sister alive along with him. I've seen everything. But I was too weak. I couldn't do anything for them at all. They tried killing me too. They tied me up and stabbed my back with your god knows what." Yuta hisses, a bottle of beer clanks against the window and Taeyong figures it's the reason for Yuta's revelation. There's an expression on Yuta's face that he couldn't decipher, whether it was anger or pain. Because even if Yuta was hurt, he is strong enough to conceal it. "Back then, I'd wish they'd kill me. But then I realized that's just weakness, to give up and die, that's weakness. Someone came to save me, and because of him, boss, I got my revenge." 

 

"Who... were those people?" 

 

"They're my parents' business partners. I've seen them enough that it wasn't difficult to find them and did the same thing they've done to my family. It was quite rewarding, somehow." Yuta smiles despite the mourning. No one could possibly be that strong, or indifferent. Except, Yuta must've been too hurt to convince himself that it didn't matter, that's why he can manage to mask his pain until now. "In return, it became a path that I couldn't escape. I'm going to kill people to my last breath." 

 

"No... That's a choice for you to make!" He disagrees, about to place a hand on his but retracts immediately when he realised it was Yuta.

 

"The moment I hesitate, is the moment I'll be dead. I will never be forgiven." Yuta says, looking up. 

 

Was it God he's spoke to?

 

"That's not true! Everyone deserves to be forgiven, no matter how wrong you are. He will understand you." Taeyong reasons. It's a world full of reasons, and nothing in the world didn't make sense. 

 

"If he's so nice and perfect like what you're telling me, in the first place, he shouldn't have let this happen." 

 

 

 

 

Taeyong opens his eyes, an unusual comfort in his back because this time, he wasn't lying on the hard floor. It was a huge bed that smells like flowers and when he looks to his left, Yuta was sitting by the window with a book in hand. 

 

"Where am I?" He still asked, though certain he's in the other's room. Sitting up, Taeyong finds a white drawer desk beside the bed with a lamp; no picture frames or figurines to decorate it. Apart from that, there's nothing else inside the white room. If it wasn't for the two tall shelves crammed with books arranged by colors, it's almost empty.

 

"My room." Yuta confirms, closing the book to look at him. He wasn't wearing any shirt and Taeyong noticed the bandage on his shoulder was replaced by another. 

 

"What hap---what happened?" Taeyong looks at Yuta who's walking towards the bed. He couldn't grasp as to why he'd be sleeping on Yuta's bed, the memory from last night is still a blur. 

 

"I don't drink my ass, you downed all the bottle of whiskey I left in your room last night." Yuta playfully hits Taeyong's head with a book that he place on top of his desk. 

 

Unimpressed by the piece of information, Taeyong disappoints himself. He thought if he drinks the bottle, he'll forget his frustrations even for a moment. He scoots back when Yuta sat on the bed, back facing him. "How did I....get here?" 

 

"Don't worry, though. I didn't touch you or anything. Not the touch that you probably wanted, at least." Yuta chuckles when he saw Taeyong's flustered face.

 

Ignoring one of Yuta's dirty joke he'll never get used to, he remembers their talk from last night. What happened to Yuta and his family that the latter probably wasn't even conscious that he'd told him."Yuta....thank you." 

 

"For what? That I held you a hostage? For keeping you alive?" Yuta queries with a loud sigh. "For the food?"

 

For trusting me, he wants to say but chose not to knowing that it will make Yuta feel uneasy. It's probably a secret, and his babble from last night could only be caused by the liquor. Taeyong would be pretending he knew nothing until Yuta talks about it again.

 

 

 

That afternoon, Yuta left Taeyong alone in his room and he didn't come back. He waits for him at the settee, restless and riled up by the commotions in his head. It wasn't a chance to escape, presumably, he's on watch by Yuta's inferiors. In the first place, he wouldn't leave Taeyong if he knew that the younger had any capability to escape. Yuta may not be around, yet it's not just him that's trapping Taeyong, but his own weaknesses too. Even if he can leave now and ask for a help outside, Yuta would still be able to find him, and worse, go after his family. 

 

The loud clicking from the door awokens Taeyong, and he's met with two people covered in dark mantle entering the room. He figures it was the doctor, Hansol, carrying a lifeless Yuta on his arms, blood all over his face and neck. Hansol had to cover themselves with a mantle to hide Yuta's condition.

 

"Oh my God--- Yuta. I... I told you...to stop." He croaks, dashing towards them but Hansol stops him. 

 

"He's alive. It's fine." 

 

"Is...Is he really." Taeyong mutters almost inaudible, and watches them disappears to Yuta's room.

 

 

The door was locked, and Taeyong sits outside, waiting. The image of Yuta breathless and drenched in blood horrifies him. When it should be his last chance to end this, because if Yuta is dead, then Taeyong will be freed. Except, he doesn't feel victorious. His mind tells him that someone so broken like Yuta doesn't deserve to die, until he's able to live, like a normal human being that isn't tied of ill strings. He wishes the doctor wasn't lying when the doctor said he's still alive. 

 

He sits tight, divided between remaining on his position or knocking inside. Hansol may be an efficient doctor, but if he comes there empty handed, it will still be preferable to take Yuta to the hospital. It's annoying to just wait and to not be able to do anything, he stood up and about to knock until he hears someone speaks.

 

"That kid. Are you sure he had nothing to do with you fucking things up? If he wakes your conscience, just let him go, Yuta. Unless you're eager to die." 

 

Hansol speaks in a low tone.

 

"The only reason I'm fucking things up is because you're breaking my damned heart. And you're still putting the blame on someone else?!" 

 

Finally, it was Yuta's voice, cracked and damaged. He couldn't grasp the meaning of his words, what the two could possibly be talking about, but he steps back immediately when he hears the knob opening. 

 

"Wh--what happened?" Taeyong weakens when Hansol looks at him. A wary stare that tells Taeyong he probably heard something he shouldn't have. 

 

"I was certain on killing him this time." Hansol mutters, a blinding, sad smile paints on his lips. "So I could escape from him. So you could escape from him. But I realized, he's someone important to me, too." 

 

If Yuta was difficult to comprehend, so was Hansol. The blood accumulate on his veins, because Hansol sounds like someone he should be fearing to. He expects the doctor to save him, but perhaps he's just as incapable as Taeyong is. 

 

"Just...what are you to Yuta?" Taeyong managed to ask. Curiosity led him to asking, and it came out to loud that had the two of stem catching each other's eyes.

 

Instead of answering, Hansol gazes at him, as if daring him to look away. Taeyong recognized this as something empty, or something that isn't good. As though he's conceding of wanting to--- certain to killing Yuta was a truth he wants Taeyong to comprehend. But Taeyong couldn't, not when Hansol came his rescue, revived him, and saved him. 

 

He bowed his head before the doctor takes his leave, mouthing an apology for his stupid question. Fidgetty, he enters Yuta's room, even when he wasn't welcomed in. And he was there, under the white sheets, dressed in bandages and the smell of blood emerging the air in the room. Carefully, he takes a seat on the desk chair beside the bed. Certain that Yuta is completely aware of his presence, despite his eyes closed and his incapable state. 

 

Suddenly, he remembered what Yuta tells him the first day they met: "Death is beautiful." As though his borrowed life, his second chance to live, wasn't any shot he'd choose over anything. That he's someone so unforgivable, detrimental, that shouldn't have been allowed to continue to live. Something tells Taeyong that Yuta didn't want to die, and searches for an answer. Yuta had witnessed deaths thousands of times, and even caused hundreds of them, and inevitably might have bring him to the vast hole to the darkness of his past. But despite it all, Yuta is still strong. While Taeyong, witnessing only one death, terrorized the composure that's left of his body.

 

"Deep in thoughts, are we?" 

 

Startled at Yuta speaking with one eye opened that he closed again. Yuta breathed a sigh, was it relief that he's still alive? Or was it a human nature act whenever they are tired? There's so much to look into it, and it makes Taeyong believe that Yuta isn't someone empty. In fact, he was brimming of emotions and reasons sealed in a room even himself couldn't comprehend. That even entering inside his head would make it ever more comprehensible. 

 

"Tomorrow, Hansol is marrying a girl he loves." Yuta starts, grumbling as pain shoots all over his body. Definitely not from the wounds, if Taeyong had to guess. 

 

There was no need to further that out, by the way Yuta has said it is clearly understandable. He was hurting, and spelling it out even more wouldn't make any sense because it's not going to change anything. Hansol is marrying a girl he loves, someone else, when Yuta wishes that someone else would be him. 

 

Even if Taeyong could appease on that by saying Hansol said Yuta is important to him, it wouldn't placate Yuta. Regardless, Taeyong still say it, "You are important to him." 

 

A humorless smirk on curves on Yuta's lips, "Of course, I'd be. He'll never forget the person who killed his fiance." 

 

Given the amount of knowledge regarding the murders he'd known about Yuta, it still surprises him. Was Yuta incited to do it out of jealousy, or something else? Taeyong closes his eyes, wishing it was the latter, though none of both can be appeasing because killing is wrong. But Yuta isn't wrong, he was taught of the wrong. 

 

Regardless of the questions in his head, Taeyong didn't want to dig in to that topic, so he says, "And I think that...important...is just a safer word for love. Not anyone can be important to someone, and you, you matter to him. And it's a place anyone would want to be for someone they love--" 

 

"Say," Yuta interrupts, a simper on his face when he looks up at him. "She doesn't like you back? You're in some tragic teenage angst brigade?" 

 

When in fact Taeyong is, he wouldn't admit it. For two shattered people to talk about it together, how sorry can He be. 

 

"So am I important to you, then?" 

 

Taken aback by the question, he catches Yuta's apathetic gaze that shoots to him. It was apparent that he didn't need an answer, and might laugh it off whatever Taeyong's answer might be. "I don't....no." 

 

Yuta nods in understanding, closing his eyes. So impassive. A person who only endures and accept what's given to him. That is Yuta, that's why Taeyong thinks he's important. 

 

"You got shot?" Taeyong asks him. It seems Yuta only closed his eyes to discuss the topic, not to get some rest. 

 

Yuta grunts, pulling the covers down to his hips. His naked upper torso, wounded and swollen, exposed to the cold. "The target's son has to integer and hit me with a fucking baseball bat."

 

Taeyong swallows, that certainly hurts.

 

"And Hansol fucking came to take care of them. Took me hours to get in the mansjon and he got the merits. What a pooper." 

 

"He kills...too?" Taeyong asked out loud. 

 

Yuta snorts a laugh. "What do you know?" 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that conversation with Yuta, Taeyong sees Hansol in another angle. It's been three days since Yuta was hit, and though Taeyong hadn't seen the wound, he supposes it was bad looking at the damage. Yuta remains in his room, lying on his bed, and odd since he never calls Taeyong for help unless the younger volunteers to bring him food or water on his own will which he always make sure to do so. The doctor visits everyday to check on Yuta and clean his wound, and Taeyong opts to leave Yuta's room whenever he's around. Afraid, maybe. It's a contemptible judgment that he'd become more terrified of Hansol than he is of Yuta. When he'd usually insist to stay in Yuta's room to watch over him, "In case you need something.", he always says. 

 

"It scarred. Your face." 

 

In the settee, Taeyong was startled when Yuta sat beside him. He wasn't watching T.V, knowing he had no authority on doing that, until Yuta switched it on. He was about to doze off staring on the floor but his concern alters to the person beside him, "You're able to stand." 

 

"I said your face, it scarred." Yuta enunciates. 

 

Taeyong reached out to his cheek, the scabs were already gone when he showered today and he noticed the dark mark on it. The wound he receieved when Yuta shoot him--- whether he intend to and missed, or he didn't, Taeyong is still unsure. 

 

"I ordered an ointment for that. Don't wanna be responsible for running a pretty face. 

 

Yuta is talking weird, probably from the pain reliever Hansol injected him awhile back. But Taeyong nodded nonetheless. "So that sort of thing...healed you." Taeyong comments out of the blue. 

 

Amused, Yuta laughed, completely aware of what Taeyong pertains to. Last night, he invited someone over to his room. And since he doesn't know how to hold back, the sound was probably obscene in the room that Taeyong had to hear. But he could laugh at Taeyong's horrified expression when this morning, bringing a breakfast to his room, Taeyong dropped the tray when he sees a naked woman on Yuta's bed. "Stop acting like a virgin. Wait...don't tell me." More laughter erupts.

 

Red on the face, Taeyong hugs his knees, avoiding his gaze. He'd protest that he's too young to discuss any of that, but aware that it'll only cause Yuta to laugh at him even more. 

 

"Wanna give it a shot?" 

 

Taeyong chides at him, because Yuta still wouldn't drop the topic. "Stop it. Stop treating girls like some plaything!" 

 

"Who says girls? You can try it with me." Yuta smirks when he sees Taeyong clenching his fist. 

 

Taeyong shudders when Yuta leans in to lick his closed lip. Heart hammering right out of his chest when Yuta probes his tongue in, licking his upper teeth and and sucks his tongue in the process. He gasp when Yuta pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if it could erase what happened. His first kiss, if it's not important to Yuta, then it is to Taeyong. "Please...don't do anything like that again." He stammers. 

 

"If you say so." 

 

 

 

 

Taeyong doesn't fucking know how Yuta managed to pass the night yesterday, bringing home three girls with him. Yuta was a lot better a week later from his accident and he thought Yuta was back to work yesterday when he's just actually out the whole day having the time of his life. 

 

The next morning, in the kitchen, Taeyong busies himself preparing food. He runs there from the settee, where he sleeps, when he hears Yuta's door opened and chatters of girls he figures about to take their exit. Ever since that incident...... Yuta had been inviting girls to his room and..

 

"Hey." 

 

"If you're in love with Hansol, why do you do it with girls?" 

 

"Doesn't matter who I do it with. As long as I'm enjoying it. Why do you seem interested?" 

 

Taeyong would say he isn't, if the sound of Yuta banging someone in his room didn't make him uncomfortable down there. All he wishes was that, Yuta never kissed him that day. It's curiousity, not interest, he'd insist, but he doesn't feel like doing so. He doesn't feel like protesting either when Yuta snakes a hand on his waist, kissing him full on the lips. It's part of his curiosity, Taeyong likes to believe, when he kisses back and grabs Yuta's neck, pulled him down to deepen the kiss. He tries to supress his moan when Yuta's tongue rung along his bottom lip, heart thumping loud when Yuta grabs the back of his hair to tilt his head and applies more pressure against his tongue. 

 

It was intoxicating, even Yuta's soft lips and masterful tongue. And Taeyong didn't mind getting kissed by him again after this. The thought alone had Taeyong biting on Yuta's bottom lip. 

 

"Shit. Shit." Yuta groans against his mouth, pulling away and retracting his arms that he wrapped around the younger. 

 

"I'm sorry." Taeyong whispers, couldn't take his eyes off of Yuta's red lip he knows his own doing. 

 

"I'm not fucking a minor." Yuta snorts turning around to the table to continue making the coffee he'd let off. 

 

"Is it more immoral than killing them?"

 

Yuta scoffed, tapping his fingers on the counter. "You're really impossible, kid."

 

 

 

i will upload a continuation of this soon xD im going to write a yutae trainee au btw


	2. 2

Little did Taeyong expects that their last affair would result to grow a distance between them--- or presumably Yuta avoiding him. Which is a very bad case of homophobia, he reckons. Honestly Taeyong wouldn't dare to kiss Yuta ever again. What happened a week ago was just an outcome of his overt thinking and depression and Yuta bringing home girls that affected Taeyong's hormones on the /slightest/. Taeyong doesn't even like boys, or specifically a person who kills people for money. Once he's out of his grasp, if ever he can make it out alive ,Taeyong is going to be admitted to the uni where the lady that he likes studies. 

 

Yuta comes back at midnight and Taeyong will find his clothes drenched with blood, not his, but the person he'd kill. That's how his life goes, watching the aftermath of Yuta after he demonized his targets. For some reason Yuta stopped talking to him, and it's asphyxiating to breathe the same air within closed barricades with someone like Yuta. "Don't ever come in my room." Is the most Yuta had say to him the last week. 

 

 

 

 

It's important to be strong on his difficult situation, where the assurance of living the next day or seeing his family is a vague chance. But God wouldn't abandon him, he's certain. God will save Taeyong if no one else can. 

 

 

 

 

 

For the second time, Yuta takes him outside. There's a discouraging weight on his shoulders, as if something bad is going to occur, and Taeyong feels like the air isn't free for him to breathe. He supposes it's going to be like the last time, when Yuta needed a back up to do his job for him. But unlike that day, Yuta isn't wounded and he's taken them to a church where there aren't anyone around so the instance that Taeyong will see him, eye to eye, killing someone is least anticipated. Or rather, this is the place where he gets killed. 

 

Entering the huge hall, Taeyong walks ahead of Yuta, making his way to the altar in the front without worrying if Yuta will scold him. He kneeled to it, clasping his hands together and making his prayers inside his head louder, so he wouldn't hear Yuta's business of being on the phone. 

 

"Do you often here?" 

 

Taeyong didn't expect it when Yuta placed a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at him, Yuta's eyes were filled of emotions he couldn't understand, was he scared or sorry? Being on a sacred place like this. When a person like Yuta, who's vocal on calling himself the devil. 

 

"Is this where you're going to do your job? Or me, in particular?" Taeyong ask afterall. Crazy idea or not, Yuta is a person so sadistic and cruel that he'd be disposed of doing it. But this time, Taeyong isn't afraid. It's as if he was ready to however it will turn out, and him dying isn't a reason to be afraid anymore. Maybe because of this place, so holy and serene that makes him remember of good memories. This is the place where his mother and father vows to each other, the place where Taeyong was baptized, the place Taeyong always comes to whenever he feels sad and just the air alone could calm him. 

 

"I don't think I'm afraid to die, Yuta. If I had think differently some time ago, not now. If this means you'll let my family live, then that's fine with me. As long as you keep them out of this, that's fine with me." Taeyong offers Yuta a sad smile. Though aware of his intention, Taeyong couldn't get himself to hate Yuta. "But still, it's not a decision for me to make. So I hope, by the time you kill me, you will leave them. That's all I ask of you." 

 

Taeyong anticipates Yuta wouldn't say anything. Nor he won't be moved or feel any guiltier at all in this. Besides, Taeyong isn't important, in fact he's just one of Yuta's victims who can't fend for themselves, and has no match to Yuta's ability of dragging people to hell he tells Taeyong he'd be sent to once he's dead. Taeyong tells him it didn't exist, but Yuta will always counter that it does, a place where Yuta belongs because the skies is just a whole goddamn lie.

 

"You didn't kill me right away, and I guess that only means even a person like you could hesitate. Yuta, you aren't evil like you believe. There's always a chance for you to change." 

 

"Shut up. Whatever you're saying, child." Yuta snides, scowling at him in a very neutral expression as though nothing of what Taeyong said had he hear. "We're here because Hansol's marriage was moved today. But I guess it wasn't." 

 

Taeyong stood up to look at him, confused when Yuta was guffawing. "What do you mean it's moved today?" 

 

"He lied." Yuta grins at him, his eyes expressionless. "Look around you, there's no one inside this church." 

 

So he does, and it's been empty since they got here. What could that supposed to mean to Yuta? He stepped back, spooked of Yuta's maniacal smirk.

 

"How can a church be empty on a Sunday, Taeyong? And you see, behind those altars are---" 

 

Taeyong stepped back further when Yuta reached out to his arms, but then a loud bang rings through his ears, followed by another. All too fast, and the next thing he sees is Yuta lying on the floor. "Stop! Stop!" He shouts to no one in particular, running towards him.

 

There were loud footsteps and number policemen dressed in black enters the door, guns still aimed at Yuta. Many more of them emerged from behind the statues and Taeyong feels blinded by the weapons they possessed to annihilate a devoid Yuta on the floor. 

 

"I really don't intend on killing you...." Yuta coughs, hands weakly grasping on Taeyong's shirt. Another gun shot erupts and Yuta looks up at Taeyong, more blood escaping his lips. "After having you.... with me for awhile, I realized...." 

 

"Get away from the target!" Someone shouts but what Taeyong clearly heard is one more shot and Yuta grunts in pain. 

 

This time, Yuta's face hits the ground, too powerless to even lift his head up. "...aren't that bad to be with you. So I thought, why not, I could keep you."

 

It's right this time, when Taeyong wishes Yuta could fight. The time he hopes Yuta could reach to his back and pull his gun out to kill everyone that brings him down to this state. Where he could unleash all of his anger towards the people, the world, or God, to save himself. Because he knows if it was the other away around, and they didn't take him by surprise, Yuta could turn tables and fight for his dear life. 

 

"Taeyong!" 

 

Taeyong turns around and sees his parents and sister running to him, a cop pulling him away from Yuta. He tries to reach for his hand, but his sister pulled him back when he embraced him on her arms, along with his parents. He could only make out their sobs of how much they miss and love Taeyong, but he's too struck to watch Yuta's body surrounded by the cops. 

 

 

 

 

 

"There's nothing to be afraid of, you can speak." The detective tells him, for the umpteenth time. Followed by her reassuring Taeyong that he's safe, he's free, and no one can hurt him anymore. But Taeyong couldn't get himself to speak. 

 

His parents will be outside the interview room, waiting for him. It's not the first time that Taeyong wouldn't spill what he knew. He was even sent to counseling, thinking Taeyong was traumatized, when in fact it's just his decision to keep silent. 

 

 

 

Contrary to what he'd believe, that everything will be over once he makes it back alive to his family, Taeyong feels hollow. It's been a week since he's back to his home, and they treat him like a child who's just starting to learn how to walk and talk. "Please, let me go out today. I need air to breathe." He renounces, that had his mother crying, as if she lost the Taeyong he she knew despite having him near. "I'll be safe, I promise." He reassures and embrace her on his arms. 

 

Taeyong doesn't know what's got in his head when he makes his way to the the through the hospital ward. Yuta is in the bed, tubes connecting to his body and on his left was a life support. He isn't wearing black like he usually does, but a hospital gown with his eyes closed. Taeyong is certain that he isn't going to die, or so the doctors wouldn't let him die. A line of justice awaits him, and he knows after this, Yuta wouldn't be treated nicely at all. He will be interrogated, tortured, and maybe killed once he says everything. 

 

Taeyong is not someone to decide anyone's fate, but wouldn't it be better for Yuta to die without having to face those policemen? The angry family and friends of the people he'd killed? Shaking the thought of his head, he sat on a chair, eyes travelling to Yuta's figure on the bed. This isn't the Yuta he knows. The Yuta he knows would be chaffing around even if he's shot on the chest right above his heart, of even if he's been hit by a hammer on the head. 

 

"Yuta, wake up." He whispers, fingers nervously running along Yuta's cold palm. "Hey, you still haven't killed me yet. And maybe you'd want to kiss me again, because I sure would like that."

 

His heart aches, eyes roaming around Yuta's lifeless form. He leaned in to kiss Yuta's forehead, carefully, and gentle. Yuta's skin feels so cold against his lips that it's almost as if he's talking to a dead. "There, that should make you angry. Why don't you get up and scold me?" 

 

It's stupid to wait, and Taeyong knows there won't be any response. But Taeyong will wait for him. 

 

Dear God, Taeyong prays. He didn't want him to die, until he finds an answer as to why he was allowed to live not only a second time, but a thousand more. So Yuta will have a meaning for his life, without believing that he was evil,unwanted. Because he is something more. There must be something more for him to understand.

 

For some reason, Taeyong doesn't feel happy. Although he's rest assured what the policemen said wasn't a lie and that they'll guard Taeyong and his family for as long as they can, because back then it's all Taeyong could ever ask for. But with Yuta in the hospital bed, barely breathing, it doesn't feel right. One thing Taeyong isn't certain about is that, if Yuta is going to take all this against him once he wakes. He remembers what Yuta tells him, the reason they went to the church where he was cornered, Hansol lied about his marriage to trap Yuta. 

 

That's why when Taeyong got out of the hospital room and sees Hansol standing by the hallway, leaning on the floor as if he's thinking of something, he sprints towards him. 

 

"Hansol, why did you do that? You almost get him killed!" Taeyong tries not to shout, though it came out louder and some of the nurses looked at him. 

 

For the moment, Hansol looks skeptic. Like his eyes are unable to believe that Taeyong was there. "Shouldn't you be... thanking me? I freed you." 

 

Meanwhile, Taeyong gazes at him in disbelief. Incredulous that it was what the doctor is thinking all along. "You want me to thank you that Yuta is almost dying?" Taeyong questions, gesturing his hand to the door on Yuta's room. 

 

"Listen, the most you can do to save yourself is to get away from him and---"

 

"Why did you do that, doctor? You know he loves you and you said he's important to you....so why?" Taeyong whispers, and feels the sting of tears in his eyes. He doesn't care if Hansol would ask why he's deeply affected, because Taeyong knows he has an answer to that, even if he's still unsure. 

 

"Taeyong, you're a smart kid." Hansol begins, standing up straight. As if what he's about to say is important, so Taeyong listens carefully. "If I want him dead, I would've killed him myself long time ago. But unless he's caught, he wouldn't stop. And I want him to stop. Even you want him to stop." 

 

Reckoning about what's been said, Taeyong nods in understanding. It's true, Yuta wouldn't give in and stop from his rage until he's restrained. With the presence of the cops, that is, or if he's behind bars, otherwise Yuta is still going to fight and Hansol is going to regret this decision. 

 

"How's your case doing?" It's not surprising for Hansol to ask, he's worried of Yuta after all. 

 

With that, Taeyong wonders if Hansol is going to disposed of him once he finds out if he spilled everything to the police. "No. I can't do that to him." He answers. The only thing Taeyong admit to is when the detective asked if Yuta held him a hostage, to which he only nodded. It's strange, because he remembers wishing Yuta would suffer the same ways he did to his victims, yet now Taeyong couldn't get himself to wrong him. "Doctor... something happened, right? That's why you decided to do this all of a sudden. It's not about freeing me..?" 

 

The way Hansol looks at him makes Taeyong realize that he's right on the mark. The doctor's attachment to Yuta plausible, considering the number of times he'd save Yuta even at his worse. But for him to suddenly turn him over to the police, it's not a random decision that just came out of nowhere. Hansol could've done it long time ago, and Taeyong is certain he's not the first hostage Yuta took, so something might've triggered him to settle it. 

 

An uncomfortable expression sits on the doctor's face when he tells Taeyong, "She's....pregrant.... If my wife had die, I don't think I'll be able to forgive him. And I don't want to not be able to forgive him." 

 

A deep reason, was it. He remembers what Yuta had told him before--- that he's only important to Hansol because of his mistakes, something the doctor wouldn't be able to forget. Yuta probably attempted to do it again, or Hansol is afraid that he'd do it again. But even that, Hansol doesn't loath him. You're really important to him, Taeyong will tell Yuta once he wakes up. 

 

 

 

 

Something tells Taeyong something different is going to happen today. Yesterday was his final interview with the detective, "He took me to his house. He feed me. The wounds, I got them from falling off a chair trying to escape. I'm sorry, that's all I could help you with." Being his final statement. Taeyong isn't disposed to lying, so of course they were skeptic and he can't convince them. But they can't do anything to force him to speak either, because Taeyong is just another victim. 

 

It's been a month since he's back to school. God had heard him. God listens to his wishes. The noises tells Taeyong today will be the day, and when he hears the very familiar voice, he rushed in through the door of the room and he sees Yuta, face slacked to finding him there. Today was different, because unlike the usual where Taeyong sees him plastered on the bed unmoving, Yuta is on a sitting position, cussing out loud. 

 

"Don't tell me you...." 

 

Come to visit me everyday, his face says. Beaming wide, Tayeong strides to him and sit on the chair carefully, scared of hurting Yuta's really thin figure if he ever ends up being clumsy on his enthusiasm. "Hansol comes here everyday, too." He says, the last word being the confirmation of Yuta's conjecture. 

 

"Hansol, that fucker." Yuta grunts. 

 

Taeyong's heart sank when the blanket that covers up to Yuta's chest fell down, exposing his hands that were cuffed. 

 

"I'm going to kill him." Yuta promises. 

 

"Yuta.... what's going to happen after this?" He ask, pursing his lips. 

 

Is it the time where Yuta pays for his sins? God, does he have to?

 

"Are you stupid?" Yuta chides at him, incredulous. His usual irritated face showing, Taeyong had missed the most. "I'm going to jail, what else?" 

 

"Can I visit you when you're in there?" Taeyong bit his lip.

 

"You're so fucking incredible." Yuta scowls. He'd always been impatient. 

 

"Can I?" He asked again. Because he won't take Yuta's no for a no, and it's not going to stop him. 

 

"Fucking shitty brat." Yuta cusses, looking away. 

 

"Please, Yuta." He pleads. 

 

"If they accuse you of having to do with me, that's going to be your problem." Yuta scolds and looks at Taeyong. His eyes were filled with emotions Taeyong doesn't understand, but he wants to. 

 

So that was his concern a long? A smile crept up on Taeyong's face, madly blushing. "That's a yes?" 

 

"Fuck off, child." Yuta warns him. But his voice gives off a vibe that he didn't mean it. 

 

"I miss you." Taeyong admits. 

 

"What the fuck?" 

 

"Kiss me." 

 

If it was possible for Yuta's big eyes to grew even larger when Taeyong leaned in to catch his lips. It's as though Yuta wanted it too, because he grab the collar of Taeyong's shirt with his cuff hands to pull him closer, kissing him like he meant it.


End file.
